


Homebound

by wyldehart



Series: Homebound [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:14:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24602191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyldehart/pseuds/wyldehart
Summary: The situation at Kinloch Hold had taken its toll on Cullen, driving him to do and think of doing things he would later regret. As a result of his actions and actions his superiors feared he might later commit, he is sent home to his siblings, whom he had not seen in years, before being transferred to Kirkwall where he would be granted the position of Knight Captain, in part, because of his horrific past with rogue mages. But an encounter with a woman bearing a seething hatred against Templars affects him in a way he never thought possible and he makes it his duty to understand her at all costs despite his vows to the Order. In healing her, he hopes, he may begin to heal himself.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Homebound [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778446
Comments: 8
Kudos: 7





	1. Kinloch Hold

**Author's Note:**

> This is a multipart series and will later contain scenes of graphic erotica. I strongly caution readers to be aware of this. Additionally, there will be a scene of "rage sex" which is perfectly consensual but may still disturb some readers.

He had her pinned against the wall, weeping and begging for him to free her. The little mage, an elven woman of about twenty years old and tiny, was at his mercy, her childlike fingers grasping at his hands as one pinned her by her throat and the other held a knife to her face. He hadn’t yet drawn blood but the bruises on her face and arms told a violent story. His red, tear-streaked face, the sweat pouring down from his furrowed brow where it met his short curls and his wild gaze told the girl that Cullen was out of control. She shrieked as loud as she could for aid and finally, several mages accompanied by a handful of Templars arrived and hauled the young Templar from his victim, who spilled to the floor in a gasping, sobbing pile of robes and black hair. Her fellow mages rushed to her aid and assessed her injuries, which they determined were minor, thankfully.

“She’s a blood mage! I saw the spell, I-I _felt_ the demons surrounding her, watching her! She needs to be put down! I demand you make her tranquil at once!” the manic Templar shouted as he struggled against his fellow Templars. He was strong, a large man who was being driven by rage and fear; it took much effort on the men’s part to restrain him and remove him from the room.

Cullen struggled against them, lashing out in terror and rage until one of the Templars, Gavin, threatened to punch him in no uncertain terms. The young man was immediately silenced by the implied threat and the promise in Gavin’s eyes. They were roommates, friends, which befuddled Cullen’s jumbled mind to no end. Why was his friend betraying him? “Settle yourself, Cullen. This is the third mage you’ve assaulted this week and we can no longer bear it. Knight Commander Greagoir needs to know.”

“Gavin, please! You saw that girl! She was going to raise demons, like-like Uldred and then put me back in that cage--! You have to help me!” Cullen pleaded, his eyes wild and his expression bleak. The Templars once again began herding the raving Templar down the hall to Greagior’s office.

Gavin looked back at his fellow Templars and slowly shook his head. “The man’s gone daft. I don’t know what we can do with him save hand him over to the Knight Commander. He doesn’t even sleep anymore, pacing the room constantly, talking to himself and cursing mages. He’s a threat, no doubt.”

“The Knight Commander will know what to do, Gav,” a woman, one of a handful of Knight Lieutenants stationed at the hold, said to his left. This made Gavin raise an eyebrow at her as they walked. Her words did not offer him reassurance that his friend would survive his ordeal. It had been a trying couple of months since the Grey Wardens left the Hold for Denerim with the bulk of the remaining mages with enough skill to be of use. With the Archedemon destroyed, Ferelden was now preparing for a surprise royal wedding between King Alistair and his future bride, fellow Grey Warden, Elissa Cousland. During that time, Cullen had struggled with the aftereffects of his torment at Uldred’s cruel hands and it had not gone well. It was rumored that Greagoir was at wit's end and had been contacting other circles for advice.

Templars were not often dismissed. Greagoir did not want Cullen to be the first under his command to be removed.

Everyone, particularly the mages, believed it would be no time before he finally, brutally snapped and killed someone. He almost had today, as close as he had ever come. Everywhere Cullen looked, he saw blood mages, not that Gavin could blame the man after all he witnessed. It was a sad situation, all in all; none of the Templars Uldred had tormented had survived save Cullen, who had survived by force of will alone. The experience had left him fragile, broken and lost. Something was needed that did not include medicine or magic. 

There was about to be a final blow, Gavin knew as they pushed the weeping Templar down the hall to Greagoir’s door. He knew something that the Knight Commander had been quietly sitting on for some time due to Cullen’s fragile state and it was most likely going to be addressed today.

All six Templars would be on hand for the moment Cullen broke. They would kill him if necessary.

The Knight Commander waved him in and dismissed the others with a nod, indicating that they should remain on hand just in case. Just in case he needed their help.

“Cullen, please sit,” Greagoir said as he waved the young knight to a chair. Cullen remained planted in place; his feet slightly apart as he watched the Knight Commander closely.

“Are you in league with blood mages, Knight Commander?” Cullen accused softly. Greagoir, angry at first, looked at him crossly and then began to laugh.

“Lad, your mind is riddled with one conspiracy theory after another. By all that is holy, sit down _now_!”

Cullen’s face went pale as he scrambled for a chair and fell into it as Greagoir took his own seat, the massive wooden desk offering the men both a barrier between them and an object to look at if the conversation grew tense. “I have been—holding—a letter for the last month. It was addressed to me but intended for you when you were in a better emotional place. Alas, you are no better than you were before and, if anything, you’re worse. This letter will not help matters, I am afraid. It required me to think about how to proceed with you in this fragile state. You pose a frightening danger to the circle’s mages and, my apologies, but we simply cannot trust you not kill one.”

Cullen stirred in his chair, absorbing his leader’s words with a lump in his chest. His heart was pounding, his face burning, and he felt shamed by the Knight Commander as he had never felt before. “Are you removing me from the Order, Knight Commander?” he asked in a small voice.

“Maker, no, Cullen. You are an important part of this organization and the promise you once showed is still there. You underwent a great deal of trauma at Uldred’s hands and so I cannot blame you for your anger. Still, you vent that rage at all mages, regardless of what they do or cast, and we simply cannot have that, Cullen! You were once one of the most compassionate of my men and I believe that you will be once again. But first, you need a break.”

Cullen’s hazel eyes met those of the Knight Commander as he asked, “Ser? A-a ‘break’? What does that mean?”

“You’re going home, Cullen. I have sent your sister, Mia, a letter along with instructions for your care and she has offered to take you in for a month or so with the intent that you may heal. Once you are done with your vacation, you will report to Knight Commander Meredith at the Kirkwall Circle where you will begin your new assignment.” The knight Commander leaned back in his chair as he watched Cullen digest this bit of news. “She wants a Knight Captain and I put your name forward as an excellent candidate, assuming you can keep your hands off the mages. Listen to me, Cullen…” The old Knight Commander gave a weary sigh as he sat back in his chair. “I need you at your best before you head to Kirkwall.”

That took the young man by surprise. He had not expected a promotion, especially not now. He started to protest but Greagoir raised his hand, silencing him as he explained, “Three mages this month have been threatened by your hands and two the month before. You need a break and reassignment if you are to remain in this order, Cullen,” Greagoir said with a heavy sigh as he reached into a desk drawer for the letter he dreaded giving to the Templar. “Here. Take it.”

Cullen reached across the desk with shaking hands, afraid of what the letter would say, and he slowly unfolded it, Mia’s familiar handwriting greeting his eyes. It was a welcome sight, her graceful, stylized letters and familiar tone, but her words brought tears to his eyes as he read the words. “No…” he whispered, fat salt droplet sliding down his cheeks to land on the neat parchment, blurring the tidy script. He looked up at the Knight Commander, his vision obscured by his grief. “How long did you say you have had this?” he demanded.

“It arrived shortly after the mages marched on Denerim, about one month ago. Mia addressed it to me so that you would not have to endure the grief so soon after your torment at Uldred’s hands. I had not intended to wait this long to give it to you and yet, here we are. For what it’s worth, I am sorry, Cullen.”

“They’re both gone… My mother and father, on the way to South Reach, gave their lives to preserve their children. Rosalie is living with Mia and my younger brother lives nearby, though my parents perished during the Blight as they fled Honnleath,” he whispered as he read and re-read the letter. His eyes then met the Knight Commander’s gaze, both accusatory and anguished as he shook the letter at him. “Why did you keep this from me?” he cried. “How could you?”

“I did what I had to do to ensure the safety of my charges! With a plan in place to remove you from this Hold and the mages within, I now feel safe showing it to you.”

“Do you think me some kind of animal?” Cullen demanded, rising from his chair.

Greagoir stood, ignoring the question as he walked around the desk. “Gather your belongings, Cullen, and go. Go, take some personal time and visit your family, recharge and head to the Gallows to thrive in Kirkwall. You need this, lad. You need this more than you know.” The elder Templar held the door open and whispered to the Knight Lieutenant, “Keep him under guard until he is away from here. How is the girl?”

“Bruised but she will be well. Curiously, she does not blame him for his outburst. None of his victims do. They understand what he has been through perhaps more than anyone on our side does. Still, your decision is best. Will he make Knight Captain, you think?”

“Easily,” Greagoir replied. “Once his anger is held in check, he will do just fine. The Kirkwall tower is a fine circle and Meredith has a tight leash on her mages, tighter than most. I think he will be too busy to lash out at the mages, and hopefully become more settled after his time at home.”

“May the Maker watch over him,” the Knight Lieutenant said softly.

“May he watch over us all but especially Cullen. I know he will accomplish great things in the future, and this move to Kirkwall will be but the first of many steps.” Greagoir then closed his door as the Cullen and his escort walked the weary young Templar back to his room to get his things.


	2. Homebound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is at last on his way home, which is no longer Honnleath but South Reach because of the Blight. But before he can see his family again, he stops by a sleepy village to rest.

Cullen was provided a horse and a Templar recruit escort who traveled with him as far east as Lothering, which was now mostly burned to ash and crawling with disease and Darkspawn. Out of necessity, they avoided the place and stopped near a mile marker on the great West Road, which cut a swath through the wilderness from Denerim in the East to Lothering in the West. The Templar's companion, a boy younger than Cullen’s brother but tall for his age, had been a pleasant traveling companion who often got quiet as he watched the countryside change while they traveled. Cullen was fine with the easy company the boy’s presence offered and he was sorry to see the boy go. “Be good to your charges, lad. Don’t…hurt them.” The young Templar recruit smiled and nodded before giving Cullen a hasty salute and then turned his horse about to head back along their path to Kinloch Hold.

Alone, but with his orders in mind, Cullen continued east along the highway, which was an important road to adventurers and merchants alike, until he entered the northernmost reaches of the Southron Hills. Built by the Imperium long before Ferelden ceased being a land of Alamarri tribesmen, it was second only to the Imperial Highway, which traveled north from Ostagar. Wariness caught up to him and though he was close to his family, he decided that the welcome sight of the inn up ahead was too much to pass up. He had come upon a small village, smaller than Lothering, where he stopped for the night and got a room. Cullen ordered food and wine and while he ate, he met a girl there who offered him her time in exchange for some coin, which he accepted. Cullen wasn’t usually one to entertain the company of—he didn’t like using the word “whore”—but he didn’t want to be alone tonight, either. Besides, she was pretty in a sweet, old fashioned sense that he liked. Perhaps this one time wouldn’t hurt, as long as he was respectful and didn’t take advantage of her offer or her time.

Once they were in his room, she began to remove her clothes and started kissing him, which he struggled against, whispering, “No, no, please, not like this.” Apparently, what she had in mind was not what he had in mind. All through the night, he insisted on holding her in his arms, refusing even to get undressed or allow her to touch him intimately. Did he not like women or something, she wondered in frustration; he was too pretty to be celibate! While being cuddled all night long was a pleasant enough experience compared to her many other encounters, she nonetheless found it bizarre. He paid her for exactly what she had offered, which was her “time” and then escorted her to the door with a soft, “Maker watch over you,” as he closed the door. Damned Templars.

He awoke the next morning just before dawn and quietly donned his armor in the darkness. The main room of the tavern was silent, empty and the fire had died to embers. A weary-eyed fellow with craggy skin and ancient eyes walked downstairs bearing a candle in his hand. “You leavin’ already?” he asked. Nobody else stirred, not even the drunks passed out in the common room.

Cullen nodded at the old man and gazed longingly back at the bar, just beyond which was the kitchen. “You hungry, boy? That what you lookin’ at?” Cullen nodded. “G’on, young Templar, help yerself to the larder. Cook won’t be up for another hour an’ I don’t cook no more ‘cause of my twisted hands. You Templars are good for it.”

“I’ll pay you, Ser,” Cullen said as he reached for his belt purse.

The old man smiled and nodded, waving it off as he walked back upstairs. “Leave the coin in the larder. I’ll tell the cook when he wakes.”

Cullen took some bread and cheese and borrowed a few embers from the fireplace in the main room to start the fire in the kitchen so that he could cook a few eggs and some fresh bacon, which he found wrapped in paper down in the cellar. He also took a bottle of wine, for which he left several silvers in the place he took it from; it was a mild red, a gift for his sister, Mia. The cheese and bread he wrapped up in cloth for the road, leaving a single shining gold sovereign to compensate for all the items he took besides the wine.

Sated on eggs and bacon, Cullen cleaned his dishes and neatly restored the kitchen to better condition than he found it before heading out into the early morning glow to fetch his horse and leave. If he was ordered to head home to his sister, he would follow his orders to the letter, even if he thought that Greagoir should have given him another chance.


	3. Apostate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The way home is seldom uneventful in Thedas and Cullen's journey is no different. A chance encounter gives him a chance for personal redemption.

A few miles outside of South Reach, a group of bandits, led by a woman with blazing red hair, attempted to rob him of his horse, his coin and whatever else they could steal. A lone warrior is not usually the type of prey for brigands, but these thieves had found themselves a beautiful young apostate to do their dirty work for them. Unfortunately for them, Cullen was a highly skilled, dedicated Templar who sensed the magic building before the mage sent off the spell. Leaping off his horse, he countered the magic, dispelling it and the spell that followed in quick succession. He blocked another spell, twisting it back on the mage without harming her even as he drew his sword, swinging the blade at his attackers as he blocked blows with his shield.

“If you surrender, apostate, I won’t turn you in to the Order, as I am not now acting in that capacity. Back down if you know what’s good for you.” The woman circled him slowly and raised her hands to cast another spell, a fire spell, which Cullen easily blocked with his shield as he used his abilities to cancel another spell, ice, he thought as a chill caressed his skin. To his left, a man lunged in an attempt to flank the skilled warrior, but Cullen whirled, drove his steel through the man's ribs and punched another with his elbow as he attacked from Cullen's right, an act that instantly broke his jaw on the heavy armor. Blood-spattered and breathing hard, Cullen nevertheless faced his opponents with skill and resilience until his sword sliced the apostate's cheek, halting their fight for the moment. At this rate, Cullen knew they would all be dead; it didn't have to end like this. 

After several minutes of fighting the odds were no longer in the rogues' favor as two of the six brigands were dead with a third who was mortally wounded and would soon join them.The remaining two healthy men were on their knees weeping for mercy, which Cullen was willing to give. The mage, however, was exhausted, her stamina and her mana utterly depleted. “You don’t want to keep doing this; fighting apostates is what I am trained for! Give up!” The woman, her fiery locks in sweat-soaked tendrils around her face, looked back at her broken band of thieves and then back at Cullen, panting heavily, with wild eyes. “I won’t turn you in, girl. And you had best be thankful for that after what I went through with another mage; this is your last chance. Make another move, cast another spell, and I will strike you down where you stand. Don’t make me do this, for the love of Andraste, please don’t make me do this.”

The mage dropped her hands, put down her staff and rushed over to one of the fallen brigands, who was in very bad condition. Cullen offered her some bandages and a healing salve for her friends, one whom appeared to be important to her. Pushing her long red hair behind her pointed left ear, she hovered over the man and glanced up at Cullen. “You won’t report us?” she asked.

“I could… But not today. Perhaps you should switch careers? The circle is far safer.” he suggested with a smile as he headed for his horse. The young elf woman flinched and started using the salve on her companion’s wounds.

Cullen paused just before mounting the cream-colored gelding and then looked back at her with a grave expression. “Had you chosen to prey on me yesterday, I would not have been so generous. I don’t know why that changed…” His voice trailed off as he reached for the saddle and hauled himself up and into the seat. “Count yourself lucky. I will advise that you leave this place because, as a Templar, I am honor-bound to notify South Reach’s guard of your presence along this road. I will not, however, mention there is a mage among them. It is the best I can do, madam.”

He then pointed the horse in the direction his family, where he hoped some peace may soon be found.


	4. Rosalie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> South Reach, at last. Cullen has arrived home where his family now resides in comfort and affable companionship with the other townsfolk. Upon arriving, he finally sees the younger sister he had left behind to join the Templars; he hasn't seen her since she was a child of six and now, at fourteen, he couldn't be prouder of the young woman she was becoming.

The next day he finally arrived in South Reach City and made his way to the Inn of the Proper Pie, where he hoped to get information about his siblings, Mia in particular, since she was known to have a house not far from the city center, South East, he thought. Exactly where she lived was hard to say, however, since they had only moved here a couple of months ago and he was unfamiliar with the Arling. Recalling his promise to the flame-haired apostate, Cullen located a guard and informed her of the bandits along the road, staying true to his word as he neglected the information about the apostate. He disliked the omission but he had given his word.

Cullen handed off his horse to a stable boy outside the inn along with a few coins. “Take good care of him, all right?” he asked, tousling the lad’s brown locks. The boy beamed as he graciously accepted the money and led Cullen’s horse back into a spacious paddock to the left of the Inn.

The Inn of the Proper Pie was one of three hostels South Reach, each serving a specific clientele. The Squealing Barge along the river front appealed to a rough crowd who preferred strong ale and spirits to mead and wine while the Arl's Roost near the college was more upper scale, preferring the company of students, nobles and those with refined tastes. The Inn of the Proper Pie, however, served all those and more. Situated near the heart of the city, it specialized in a multitude of different flavored pies and just about every kind of beverage you could dream up. The clientele was as varied as its drinks but it was for the pie that people came.

When Cullen entered, he felt a sense of welcome that was missing from most inns and he was pleased by the atmosphere, which was clean, bright and lively. On a stage near the fireplace, a group of bards were playing a cheerful tune near with a woman singing a bawdry ballad that made Cullen blush as he made his way to the bar. The smells wafting out from the kitchen told him that there were, indeed, pies to be had in this place. The Innkeeper grinned broadly as he came around to see what Cullen wanted, “Welcome to South Reach’s only Proper Pie Inn and home to the best pies in Thedas. We’ve meat-filled pies, fruit-filled pies and a lot more than that if you desire something unique to your liking. What can I get you, friend?”

“I really do want to try one of your pies, but I also need information if you have it to offer,” Cullen replied with a thankful grin as he dug out several silver coins.

“For you, fine Templar, if it is information you crave, I have it here. Which pie would you like? Or I can have Rosalie make you something she recommends that will surprise you. She's barely more than a babe but the lass makes pies like a seasoned old mum,” the man laughed, making Cullen brighten suddenly as he sat up straighter in his seat. Rosalie? Could it be her?

“Forgive me but is her last name ‘Rutherford?’ She would be about fourteen.” he asked, encouraged.

“Er, maybe? Yes, I think so,” the Innkeeper said as he raised his eyebrows. “Her sister's name is Mia and I believe they mentioned a brother who is a... Wait a minute. Why do you ask?”

Cullen grinned and leaned forward to catch the Innkeeper’s ear as he whispered, “Tell the girl to make ‘Cullen’s favorite pie’ and watch her reaction.”

The innkeeper nodded and walked into the kitchen. A moment later, a squealing teenage girl covered in flower came running around the bar, her white-dusted arms open wide as she lunged for her older brother, who had only moments to brace himself for his flying sister. He swung her around to the delight of the innkeeper, who was laughing at her reaction. “This is my brother, Cullen, Orrin!" she exclaimed to the owner, hugging him and Cullen both. "I had no idea he was coming! Maker, why didn’t you tell anyone?” she demanded, punching his armored chest with her small fist.

“Mia knew I was coming,” he said with a smirk as he hugged her again. “She didn’t tell you?” He was amused by his little sister’s pout as she crossed her arms.

“No, she did not!” She looked back at Orrin and, with a pleading expression, she asked, “May I please take Cullen to the house and help Mia get him settled in? And Bran needs to know as well. Evali will know where to find Bran.”

Orrin waved her off with a laugh, saying, “As if I could stop you, little one. Moira! I need you back on pie duty; Rosalie is headed home for the day,” Orrin shouted up the stairs before returning to the bar.

“Who?” Cullen asked, eyebrows raised, as he followed his sister. He started to head for the stable as Rosie linked arms with him and tugged off her apron as he fetched his horse. When they arrived, she mounted a fuzzy pony she collected from the rear of the barn and together, they headed south into the city center and took a road leading away from the merchant's district.

“Evali. She’s Bran’s betr—er—friend.” Rosalie said, clapping her hand over her mouth. Branson was only seventeen and far too young to get married, as far as his siblings were concerned. Evali, however, had robbed him of his senses and his bachelorhood, though they remained unmarried. Roasalie wanted Mia or Bran to tell him about their brother’s unexpected engagement rather than their older brother getting it from her. "So, what brings you here? Surely you have more important Templar things to do, don't you, brother?"

"I wasn't given a choice," he said slowly. "I'll tell you everything soon, I promise." Cullen, in his gleaming Templar armor, stuck out in the sleepier fringes of the city, which caused a lot of people to openly gawk at him. The last time any of these people had seen a man in full armor had to have been when the Hero of Ferelden and King Alistair rode through on their way to stop the Blight with their great army behind them. They weren’t used to seeing Templars in their midst unless they were coming to collect mages. Doubtless several people were now bringing their children out to watch him while others, recognizing the Templar, hid their children for fear of the Chantry's reach. The arling had its own army and their guard of course but Templars had a certain look to them that wasn't just in the gleam of their armor alone and Cullen practically radiated it. 

Once they had left the sprawling businesses and the smell of the grand city and its network of canals behind them, they passed by a fascinating old house that had seen better days; the beautiful old-style structure and exterior walls painted a bright white. It must have been grand in its day, Cullen thought, as he admired the property. He was fond of architecture and the more detailed, the more antique-looking, the more beautiful it was to him. A lot of love had been poured into the home and was still being heaped upon it, if the flower beds and carefully pruned bushes were any indication. As they passed the manicured front yard, Cullen caught the eye of a long-haired woman in breeches and a white sleeveless shirt as she stood up in front of her home to look at him. She shaded her eyes from the sun to watch him walk by and returned his smile of greeting with a disgusted frown before turning her back on him to tend the flowers she had been planting moments earlier.

More than a touch disappointed by the woman's reaction to him, he asked, "Who's that?" nodding at the house as Rosalie continued to lead him down the road. They passed through a small orchard and turned down a well-used dirt path.

“Irenna Yakovian. Mia knows more than I do. She’s always working on that house of hers, which seems to be falling apart. Maybe she might need some help? I never see a man about so it might be possible that she lives alone,” Rosalie said with a wink as they approached a large, blue-painted two-story home. Every window was graced by a flower box that overflowed with beautiful petunias; their heady scent could be smelled even before they reached the door. This house wasn't nearly as old or architecturally refined as the other building, but it was charming in its own way and equally full of love. 

Rosalie opened the front door and called out, “Mia, I have a surprise!” Cullen closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of something roasting in the kitchen. Home had always smelled like flowers and baked goods; savory and floral scents overlaid with herb and wood-smoke that thrilled and teased the senses. The scent of his mother’s cooking was the last thing he recalled of home back in Honnleath before he left to take his vows as a Templar; he returned home to those same scents now. But mother was gone, something he had scarcely had time to come to grips with.

He set his pack of meager belongings on the polished wood floor near the door and smiled as Mia walked out of the kitchen with arms open wide to him. His older sister had aged gracefully, he noted, as he enveloped her in his arms. “Maker’s breath, Cullen, you smell of armor oil and horse shit! Get this metal off of you and into some real clothes. The bedroom upstairs on the right as you reach the landing is yours; help yourself to the clothes. They were father's and they _should_ fit you, depending on how much meat you’ve put on. Not that I can tell in all that damned steel," she added with a critical glare.

Cullen laughed and kissed his sister’s cheek before throwing the pack back over his shoulder and headed up the stairs to his room. “You haven’t changed a bit, Mia,” he laughed over his shoulder at her. "Not one bit!"


	5. Sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter concerning Cullen's sisters as they prepare for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. Very short chapter.

Rosalie’s eyes went wide as she started raining small slaps down on her sister’s arms. “You _knew_ he was coming! You knew and you didn’t bloody tell anyone? How _could_ you!”

Laughing, Mia pinched Rosalie’s cheek and hugged her, saying, “I wanted you to come home from the inn to find him waiting here for you, but he went to the _Pie_ first instead, utterly thwarting my plans,” she said melodramatically, making Rosie giggle as she followed her.

Rosie then rolled her eyes as she followed her sister into the kitchen. “Well, yeah, of course he went to the Pie first! It’s an inn; that’s where every man in armor with a horse goes when they first arrive in a town.” Mia ignored her younger sister as she started bustling about, tasting the food and seasoning as she worked. She then pulled out plates, flatware, and cloth napkins from a cabinet and shoved them into her sister’s arms.

Rosie continued, “How do you think Cullen looks? He was thirteen last I saw him; he was shorter than you. And he’s always been serious…” Rosie followed her sister into the dining room and began setting the table. “…but he looks haunted now, like he lost some part of himself. I wonder what happened there at the Circle. I hear the travelers talk, the mercs and whatnot, and they say terrible things occurred at the circle tower; do you think something happened at Kinloch Hold? Do you think Cullen was involved? Do you think—” Mia’s scowling face suddenly filled Rosie’s field of vision; she was so close, their noses nearly touched.

“Enough, Rosie,” Mia said sternly.

Mia favored Cullen in her appearance and demeanor in many ways, from the look on Mia’s face, which was reminiscent of Cullen’s many brooding scowls, to his smile. Her older sister’s curly hair, which fell in waves about her shoulders, was a dusty brown, rather than blond like his. Rosalie and Cullen were the only two of the four children to inherit their father’s blond curls, though Mia’s locks were a lighter brown than that of their mother’s. The other way in which Mia favored their brother was in her dedication to her work, though her sister maintained that fun was an important part of every day, as evidenced by the chess board set up in the sitting room.

Mia had been a fine surrogate parent in the weeks since their parents perished as they fled the Blight, but Rosie missed them terribly. They had salvaged some items from their old home when it was safe to return, but all the furniture, many of their books, artwork and even the old chess table had been left behind. Subsequent return trips to Honnleath had resulted in much of the trappings of their old existence being recovered but not the life they left behind; Rosie missed it. She missed home and she even missed the strange Golem statue that stood watch in the center square; she used to drape flowers over its shoulders in springtime and chased away the birds the locals enjoyed attracting to it.

Her walnut brown colored eyes traveled up the stairs as her mind drifted back to thoughts of her older brother; what had happened to him in all that time?


	6. Cullen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen is home at last and contemplating his immediate future. What about the mysterious woman he saw on his way to his sister's house?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another diminutive chapter.

Upstairs in the room Mia gave him to use, Cullen stood out of his armor and in real clothes for the first time in as long as he could remember. He was wearing a pair of his father’s black breeches and a shirt made of grey linen that stretched across his broad chest and shoulders; he would need to buy something more suited to his much more muscular frame. Wearing his father’s clothes, knowing that his father would never wear them again, hurt Cullen deeply and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t been crying over the loss of his parents since first seeing his father’s things.

The room was nicely appointed, with a comfortable bed, a massive cherry wood armoire and a small table with two chairs. A bookshelf overloaded with tomes leaned against the far wall next to a plush, comfortable couch; an incredibly soft, thick red throw was casually draped across the back of the couch. The space was designed for comfort and tranquility, the kind of environment that a young man with a painful experience to overcome could easily fade away in.

Mia, true to her nature, had thought of everything. Her efficiency was only surpassed by her frugality, which you hardly noticed, so impressive was her utilization of old things. Even the curtains, which had once been stained and threadbare by the passage of time, were patched and dyed into an artistic version of their old selves. They did not block the light but rather, they filtered it and created intricate designs throughout the room with the filtered sun.

Overall, the room was designed to be a sanctuary, something he badly needed. As his eyes drifted over the books on the shelf, his mind went back to the woman he saw, the way she turned her back on him after recognizing what he was. Did she have a problem with him? There were some people who hated Templars due to what they did in the Circle. Was she one of them? If so, he felt an urge to explain himself, to explain who he was and what he did and why.

Cullen walked over to a mirror and looked himself over for the first time in ages and he wasn’t unhappy with what he saw. Sparring with fellow Templars and his foundation as a warrior had built his body into an impressive, muscular form that was still graceful and smooth. He cut a striking figure in the snug breeches, which hugged his hips and thighs, and the close-fitting shirt. He loosened the laces at his chest slightly to give his shoulders more room to move and the result was almost embarrassing, though a part of his mind wondered what a certain woman would think of him dressed as he was.

Cullen knew he was attractive by most accounts, but he was humble enough not to make a big deal of it as many young men his age did. Templars, after all, were still human and subject to the same fancies as civilians, and they enjoyed attracting the eyes of pretty girls when they had a few hours to themselves. For the moment, Cullen had his mind on one woman in particular; a woman with a deep scowl and incredibly fine, long hair. He wondered if it was as soft to the touch as it appeared from a distance. He blushed at the errant thought and tried to distract himself.

Despite his attempts at self-distraction, his mind kept going back to her, ripping him back every time he tried to banish his thoughts. Cullen pulled on a pair of his own leather boots and wrapped a belt around his lean hips. Satisfied that he looked at least partially human, even if he still felt and smelled foul, he reached for the bedroom door and opened it, startled to be face-to-face with his older sister. She looked him up and down and nodded, satisfied with his less imposing appearance. She then pushed him inside the room and urged him to sit down on the couch with her.


	7. Mia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Older than he by a few years, Cullen's sister, Mia is the matriarch of the Rutherford Clan. There are few people in this world he can rely on more than she and it is on her shoulder that he at last is able to mourn their parents.

“Before we go downstairs, I need you to know a few things. First, there will be questions, a lot of them: Answer or not, the choice is yours. I am under orders by the Knight Commander to provide a relaxing environment where you can fully let yourself go and just _be_. No rules, no chantry, no stress. This is a vacation, Cullen, and a safe environment so that when you do return to the Circle, you will have let go of all your pain and hopefully moved on from it. If you need to talk to any of us, we are here. We are all here for you, no matter what. Family is everything.”

“Just how much did Greagoir tell you? It seems like you’ve been preparing for me for weeks,” he complained to her as his eyes moved about the room. Mia’s guilty expression told him what he had suspected, and he sighed.

Mia replied, her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to look at her. “He was concerned; we both were—are. Greagoir believes in you and he just… He wants you in one piece, as do we all. Do you understand?”

He blinked at her thoughtfully before leaning in to place a kiss on her cheek. “I understand. Hey, since I’ve got you to myself, tell me: The woman in the old white house just a short distance away from your home… Who is she? She was planting flowers in the beds around her front porch but when she saw me, she frowned and turned her back to me. Is there a problem? Does she know me? Or know of me?”

Of all the things for him to bring up, he was asking about Irenna Yakovian? Mia quirked an eyebrow and frowned thoughtfully as she mulled over her answer; Irenna was a complicated subject and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to dispel his interest in the woman or encourage it. She could take a more diplomatic approach by giving him just the facts or allow him to make his own discoveries or a combination of the two. One thing Mia had learned about her brothers was that there was no denying them when they set their minds to something. So, she chose to give him a few basic facts that would sate his curiosity without turning him against the woman, depending on his state of mind.

“Her name is Irenna and she is, ah, _distantly_ married to a merchant in Denerim. More than that, she will have to tell you, as it isn’t my place; she is very private. One thing I _can_ tell you is that she isn’t fond of Templars, so if you plan to get on her good side, you may have a difficult time of it.” There, she thought, just the facts, enough to help him work through his curiosity and enough to keep him interested. Perhaps his attraction to Irenna would be beneficial for him, her husband notwithstanding. Sex, Mia believed, was an excellent therapy for those struggling with a host of issues brought about by severe trauma and Irenna was known to take lovers outside of her sham marriage. Perhaps the woman could overlook Cullen being a Templar? He had grown up into a fine specimen of a man, after all.

He kissed her hands and smiled, “Thank you,” he said. “I won’t do anything foolish; I promise you,” he said with a knowing grin. “Thank you for everything. One other thing: What else did Greagoir say in his letters?”

Mia hesitated, searching his face for a moment and briefly unsure how to reply. “Not a lot,” she said. “He mentioned that one of the mages, Uldred, staged a protest in which blood magic was used. His letter left out huge swaths of detail, but I gathered that you were harmed during this uprising and were left the only survivor, which the Knight Commander’s letter hinted at. Much more than that, I am uncertain. I’m smart, though, and I can make my own logical conclusions as necessary to put the pieces together. From Greagoir’s description of the environment I was to design for you, I have gathered that you were left… Broken.”

Cullen leaned his forehead against Mia’s and nodded, swallowed and his eyes closed as he fought back tears. “I hurt some of my charges, badly, the latest one just a few days ago. The Circle feared I would kill one of them. I fear they were not wrong in their fears.” He pushed Mia away and locked eyes with her, his hands on her shoulders, squeezing them. “Maker’s breath, Mia, I accused the Knight Commander of colluding with Blood Mages! I resented his decision, yet I know he was right to send me away. One more week and there is no telling what I may have done. And then he kept from me knowledge of the death of our parents… I… Can’t.”

His older sister leaned forward and held him as a sob broke through. He let it out, weeping into her shoulder until her dress was soaked through and the pain began to subside. He choked out the words, “I wish I had been here, aided in your escape! Perhaps if I—”

Mia drew away and shushed him with her fingers. “No, don’t you dare. Their deaths weren’t your fault, Cullen Stanton Rutherford! There is nothing you could have done. Nothing! We fled as the Blight was ending but Mother and Father got caught up with a wave of Darkspawn who shredded their group as they tried to escape the Horde. Only a few people, nearly all of them carrying the Taint, survived. Had you been with them, you would have died as well; then where would your siblings have been? We need you safe, Cullen, wherever you are.”

He hugged her and allowed her to pull him to his feet. “Come, Brother; supper is ready, and I know damn well you haven’t eaten since you said your vows.”

He blinked at her and stammered as she led him along by his hand, “I have too eaten!” he protested. She cast a withering look over her shoulder with one eyebrow raised until he sheepishly revised his words, “Well, I eat but not anything as good as what you make…”

As they emerged from his bedroom, Mia pointed her finger at a door down the hall and declared that to be the privy. “We have a bathtub but no mages so water will not magically appear in the tub. You must fetch it and heat it yourself, in other words.”

Cullen crossed his arms, hearing a seam pop as he moved and frowned, “The mages don’t fill our baths, Mia; they aren’t slaves. That’s what we have recruits for.” Then he added with a chuckle as a seam split along his shoulder, “But they do occasionally enlarge shirts.”


	8. Branson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen's brother, Branson, who grew up without his older brother in his life for the most part, was growing up much faster than Cullen had expected. Betrothed to a young girl, his brother was trying to do everything the right way but his head was full of romantic notions that got in the way of reality. Cullen finally got to take the boy aside; a boy he hardly knew, to give him a conversation that usually reserved for a father to a son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discussion of underage sex. It's implied but not drawn out. Participants are at least age 16.

They were greeted at the bottom of the stairs by an enthusiastic hug from Cullen’s younger brother, Branson, who was just a small boy the last time Cullen saw him. He was almost as tall as his older brother though he wasn’t nearly as wide in the shoulders. Cullen had taken after their grandfather, a powerfully built man in his youth while Branson favored their smaller father, though in his face, he didn’t resemble their father at all. “You look like mother!” Cullen laughed, tousling his brother’s curls, the one trait their mother had bequeathed to all her children.

“And you look old, Cullen. You look like shit,” Branson replied critically. Mia smacked her brother as she corrected him, “ _Smell_ s like shit; he _looks_ like the Fade shat him out after chewing on his corpse for a while.”

Their brother opened his mouth, aghast at the descriptions, “Hey! That isn’t fair. I fought off a blood mage by sheer will alone and was left the only surviving Templar in the tower. There’s a reason I look like s—stuff. And I really do need a bath.” His siblings then rushed in for a group hug, which Cullen eagerly obliged, all three of them crying and laughing at the same time. But as Cullen drew his family close, he saw a small woman holding back from the cheerful mob enveloping him and he gently broke their hold and held out his hand. “Hello,” he said to the girl.

With a wild mane of gleaming black hair and beautiful, gold-brown skin, the young woman was very pretty and very young to Cullen; she wasn’t more than sixteen years old and quite possibly younger. Encouraged by Cullen’s smile, the girl returned it with one of her own and Branson, as if only now remembering she was there, leaped to her side and attempted to stammer out introductions. The young woman waved him off and approached his older brother with her hand extended. Cullen took it and squeezed gently. “Hello,” she said sweetly. “You must be Bran’s older brother; I am Evali. It is an honor to finally meet the heroic older brother of my betrothed.”

There was a collective gasp from all three of Cullen’s siblings as she introduced herself. “I am far from being heroic but… You are… _Betrothed_?” Cullen asked, casting an accusatory glare at his brother, who inexplicably blurted, “I swear! She isn’t pregnant! We haven’t lain together either! We’re just, you know, living… Together… Um…” Mia walked up to Branson and pinched his ear with her thumb and forefinger, dragging him away into the kitchen before he made things even more awkward. Once her brother was out of the room, she returned to find her other brother laughing with the girl.

“How ever did you two meet?” he asked as he led her to the dining table. “And what compelled you to allow yourself to become engaged to my brother? Aren’t you both a bit young?”

From the kitchen came Cullen’s answer, yelled out by his brother to Mia’s embarrassment and the other young women’s amusement. “I love her with all my soul, for she is breath and water to me, and I shall surely perish if…”

Evali leaned in and whispered, “He isn’t usually this obnoxious, I swear. I haven’t done anything to change him. I think the theatrics are for your sake so that you don’t refuse your blessing.”

She leaned back as Cullen’s younger sister leaned in to hug her. “Evali’s parents also died during the Blight so we took her in. Within weeks, my brother was fawning over her like a lost puppy. A month ago, he begged Mia to allow him to wed her and, with restrictions, she has given her blessing,” Rosalie explained.

Evali nodded and touched Cullen’s arm, smiling as she explained, “We are waiting until after my seventeenth birthday, which will be in one year and a half, to be wed. Bran is right; we’ve not yet bedded one another though we very much would like to. Still, the prospect of children is daunting to me and I would like to enjoy my time with him before we become parents.”

Mia leaned against a chair as her brother poked his head out with a shy grin. She glanced between the two and said, “There are herbs that counter a man’s seed or make a woman barren for a time if used daily in a tea. While I believe you are too young to be intimate, I won’t stop you either. The choice is yours.”

“Are we really having this conversation now, at the dinner table, during the first night with my family since I left to join the Templars?” Cullen asked with a disgusted groan. The thought of his brother having relations with anyone… He never thought he would see the day. Still, he believed he owed his younger brother a word or two of advice.

Cullen pushed back his chair and excused himself before heading into the kitchen. Smiling as he looped his arm around the younger man’s shoulder, the older brother led the younger brother away from the women gathered around the table. They were vastly outnumbered. “So, a word of advice, dear brother, before you lie with your future bride: If you hurt her, I will descend upon you like Grey Wardens on an Archdemon. Are we clear?” The boy flinched and swallowed hard after a meek nod. “And whatever you do, don’t, uh, put the cart before the horse, if you catch my drift. Get married first and then worry about a family; there’s no rush. You do understand? While I may never have a child as I have taken vows forsaking a wife or children, without the Chantry's blessing, you have no such restrictions and you will have to make up this loss for the both of us. Just… Not yet, please.”

Branson’s cheeks flushed and he nodded eagerly. “I swear I won’t disappoint you, brother! I promise! But… What’s it like? Sex, I mean?”

Cullen cringed and rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t ready for this conversation, especially since his own experience was not great. The first girl he had ever been with was a fellow Templar back when he was still a trainee. They had been Branson’s age, barely sixteen and completely inexperienced. They understood the rules against fraternization but there was opportunity, they were alone, and curiosity had weakened their judgement.

With an enthusiastic tangle of limbs and hands, Cullen and his fellow trainee had managed to figure out the technical aspect of sex without any of what made it pleasurable. Even Cullen’s climax had been, well, anticlimactic and then there was the blood… Nobody had warned them that she might bleed. What made things worse was that they were caught and turned in by a senior mage who took great pleasure in reporting the errant lovers to the Knight Commander.

Cullen met the girl one last time when they were older, several months after each having taken their vows as Templars. This time, when the opportunity once again arose, Cullen was much more careful and the experience was adequate, if still awkward. He had had a couple more fleeting, yet educational opportunities in the years since that varied in their levels of pleasure but none had been especially memorable, and so his reply to his brother was not the reply he wanted to give. “My experience is… Very limited. I like being with women, don’t get me wrong, but… The first time is never enjoyable. There may be blood. And sweat. And other fluids. And it gets awkward afterward. Of course, the girl I was with was not someone I was in love with so, maybe for you it will be better. All I can say is be careful. Don’t put the cart…”

“’…Before the horse. Right. I get it. I won’t,” Branson said as he rolled his eyes and sighed.

Cullen, satisfied that the conversation was over, clapped his brother on the shoulder and led him back into the dining room, where Mia was seated at the table’s head. “Well? Aren’t you two getting dinner? We’re ready to eat!” she said with her eyebrow raised. Cullen couldn’t tell if she was serious or joking, so he erred on the side of caution and the two men served the ladies their meal much to their sisters' amusement.

Dinner was excellent and the conversation included stories about Cullen’s training, the tower, and mages all the way to rumors surrounding Ferelden’s king and Queen (“Apparently, they can’t keep their hands off one another and it’s embarrassing the nobles.”) The younger ones wanted to know all about the Hero of Ferelden and King Alistair, whom Cullen had met during their visits to Kinloch Hold. They also pried into Mia’s love life, which she stubbornly refused to allow. There was speculation that Mia had a clandestine romance with an unknown person in town, but she denied all the rumors, of course, which did not satisfy Cullen and the two younger members of their close-knit family.

Rosalie readily admitted that had her eyes on several suitors, including at least two women, though she acknowledged that she was too young to do more than look. She enjoyed looking, which Mia was fine with as long as her sister restricted herself to only looking for the time being. The elder Rutherford sibling was extremely open-minded and realistic in matters of sex, but when it came to her younger relations, she was very, very protective. Even though her brother was a man by society’s standards, his young betrothed was still a child as far as Mia was concerned and so she held a stern position on the matter of their budding romance.

This became the focus of several minutes of enthusiastic discussion, which left both youthful subjects red in the face as they protested the attention and helpful advice. They then turned their attention to Cullen, who skillfully dodged his family’s curiosity, with Rosalie even suggesting he attempt to “woo” Irenna Yakovian (her term) because she always seemed so lonely and could use the distraction. “She brushes off everyone’s attempts at friendship, you know. Even me and everyone likes me!”

“I heard she’s a seductress,” Branson said conspiratorially, thankful that the attention was now off him and focused on Cullen. “She has taken at least three lovers since we’ve been living in South Reach.”

Mia snapped her head around and shushed him with a look. “Enough of that! From what I’ve heard, her marriage is a sham and what she’s looking for in those men is something she will never be allowed to have because of her so-called _husband_. I’m with Rosie on this one, Cullen; you both need each other.”

“But she loathes Templars. Not sure why,” Branson offered helpfully. "Rumor is she had a bad experience as a child."

Mia looked away and murmured, “I know why, but it is not my place to say.” She looked across the table at Cullen and sighed. “You’ll have a difficult time convincing her to speak to you, but you’re charming and you’re pretty; I think she will be hard pressed to ignore you for long.”

The conversation ebbed and soon, they all dispersed to other parts of the sprawling Rutherford home, with the young couple reclining together on a couch as they read a book together, giggling at times as they read. Branson’s fingers absently stroked his betrothed’s face and neck and she gently ran her hand across his chest in light caresses that left Cullen feeling lonelier than he felt he had reason to feel.

He had a good life, a great job, a family within the Templars and the love of the people under this roof; what more did he need?

Soon, a combination of fatigue and fullness lured Cullen upstairs to his room. He washed his body in the privy bathtub, scrubbing away several days of road dust from his hair and body before he headed to bed. As he slipped under the covers, he promised himself that he would take his siblings’ advice and visit the odd woman he saw on the side of the road.


End file.
